More Than This
by Marmalah
Summary: There are many different aspects of love. EdRoy, EdWin, AlWin. Oneshot.


_Random, short oneshot that came to me today. _

_It wrote itself. Don't blame me for confusion. Edward's POV, yeaaaaaaaaaaaah._

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><p><strong>More Than This<strong>

I was never one of those people who were stupid enough to believe that love lasts forever. I tried, I really did, but after having my heart broken once and having been fooled into believing that I was loved, and _in love, _it all just slipped away.

"I will never love again," I swore to myself – foolishly, of course, because who can help if they fall in love?

I remember, long ago when I was a child in both body and mind, I would often watch my parents when they thought I was asleep with Alphonse. I would look at them, and right off the bat, I knew they loved one another. It was in Mom's eyes and in her laugh; the way she looked at him whenever he spoke, or how she would laugh at any joke he would say, even if it wasn't funny. It was a kind of humor only they understood. It was in Dad's touch, and the way he would brush her hair out of her face or subtly intertwine his fingers with hers.

I always wondered why he left, if he truly loved her. I wish he would've seen how much pain was caused and the damage done – to all three of us, who loved him in different ways. I think that was when my faith in love started to waver.

Winry ended up pushing me over the edge. She'd always been my crush, because we were always together when we were younger and I knew next to nothing. Even as I was in the military, I thought I liked her – I was young enough and stupid enough to call it love at that time.

She would flirt with me, acting like I was a nuisance when she really didn't mind me. I would call her annoying when I was truthfully glad she was there to keep me company. We were always playing, always hiding behind facades and false bravados.

Winry was whom I gave my first kiss to. I felt nothing.

Not much else occurred between us for the rest of my time in the military – hesitant touches and secret kisses, but nothing drastic. I was too wrapped up with Al's well-being to have any time for her. She knew that, but it didn't mean she liked it.

It wasn't until a few months after Al's body was returned that I lost my complete faith in love. I had walked past Winry and Al, sharing a kiss behind a door they thought they had closed. "I love you," she whispered, and Al smiled – sweet, young, innocent. He repeated her words, and I felt like something inside of me was trying to take away all of my oxygen.

Even though I had never truly loved Winry, I thought I did, and it hurt.

Al had not known about Winry and I – everything between us had been secretive. We were always hiding. I did not blame Al. I did not blame Winry.

My relationship with Roy was confusing and as much of a surprise to me as it was to him. That was what I loved the most. It was not predictable. It was not boring. I had never realized how horribly _handsome _he was until I came back to Central – to visit, because Gracia begged me to.

Roy was there, with Havoc and Breda and Falman. Riza showed up too, because wherever Roy went, she did too; like his shadow, it seemed.

The reunion felt too awkward. People I used to see daily were popping up again after being absent for a year, and for a while I wasn't sure how to act. But then Roy cracked a short joke, even though I was almost as tall as him at that point, and I felt like I was sixteen again; though without the weight of the world on my shoulders.

Once everyone had left and it was closing in on midnight, Roy murmured, "I missed you."

It was so un-Roy-like that I thought I'd misheard him. Gracia was gone, having left to move Elysia from the couch to her bed because she'd fallen asleep. I was thankful for this moment of solitude with Roy, because if she had been there, he would've never said those words. I didn't say that I missed him too; he already knew.

And then he was kissing me before I could say anything, even if I had wanted to. It was not gentle, like the ones shared with my mother; nor were they shy like those between Winry and I. It was hot and desperate, and it set my every nerve on fire until I actually felt sweat drip down the side of my face.

The kiss said, "I miss you," "I want you," and "don't leave," all in one. It was something that made me want to grab Roy and kiss him until I ran out of breath – or stopped breathing altogether.

It was not love, not yet. There is no such thing as love at first sight. Hate evolved into tolerance. Tolerance evolved into like, which evolved into love. This was our relationship; it happened over the span of years, and in the beginning, I never would've expected it to end up how it did.

Our love did not last forever, but I never assumed it would. I couldn't imagine growing old with Roy. I knew I would grow old and die alone. That was how I wanted it. He respected my decision, and we parted ways without regrets. It was for the best, we both agreed.

My father showed me how quickly love can turn to hate. Winry showed me how love can break a person. Roy showed me that love is real; it is unexpected and spontaneous and mystifying. It's all around – you just have to know who to find it in.

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><p><em>I feel like I just dished out a whole pot of fail and mushy-crap with the world "love" stated too many times. Headaccccccccccheee. I wish I wouldn't have missed THREE WHOLE FREAKIN DAYS OF SCHOOL because now I have a shitload of homework.<em>

_-dead-_


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